#vmosbvs

[glassesandcape-a-blog]

Alice: Treat or trick, please! (just 'cause. halloween~)

Clark laughed and held out the plastic candy bowl towards her. “How about just treat? You can take your pick.” While the little girl looked at the candy, Clark took in her very creative costume. “How’s your Halloween been so far, Alice?”

[glassesandcape-a-blog]

15. What kind of inner life do they have — rich and imaginative? Calculating and practical? Full of doubts and fears? Does it find any sort of outlet in their lives?16. Do they dream? What are those dreams like?

42 Character Development Questions

15. What kind of inner life do they have — rich and imaginative? Calculating and practical? Full of doubts and fears? Does it find any sort of outlet in their lives?

Wherever Clark goes, he’s always wondering about the people he sees, the lives they lead – who they go home to, where they go home to, what sorts of things matter to them. He imagines solutions and justices where they don’t necessarily exist yet, but is unsure how to put them into place except in the printed word. This is why he fights so hard for the stories that matter to him.

When it comes to himself, he doesn’t hold the high ambitions some of his coworkers at the Planet aim for, and in fact, he shies away from imagining himself with journalistic glory. He just wants to make sure the right stories are written and published at the right times, so that they can help the most people.

When it comes to what he does as Superman and who he is biologically, this is where the doubt and fear creeps in. Is he even doing the right thing? If what the people want is for him to not interfere, can he hold himself to do that? If the people around him knew that he, Clark Kent, was a Kryptonian, what would they do? It’s a perpetual sort of doubt and anxiety, and none of those questions are easy ones to answer. They rattle around in his head, but Clark’s always been a private person – probably too private, when it comes to letting thoughts like these fester.

(second question under a cut for mentions of violence.)

16. Do they dream? What are those dreams like?

When he’s not drop-dead exhausted (for instance, if he hasn’t slept in a week), Clark will sometimes dream, though not often. More often than not they’re nightmares – his father’s death, Zod’s death, (and after his resurection) the Kryptonite spear held aloft, and the images of his mother beaten and bloody. His father’s death is the nightmare most likely to play out as an unbroken episode; the others will inject scraps of themselves into his dreams, mix and repeat.

Another nightmare is the people he loves being brutally killed, with him powerless to save them. He hasn’t spoken to anyone about these nightmares in particular.

Sometimes he dreams of what he imagines Krypton would be like, but all the locations and faces are vague except for that of his birth father’s, due to the hologram upon the scout ship. They’re more bittersweet and imagination-fueled than anything, as he knows when he awakes that he has little to go from when it comes to his birth planet.

Very occasionally he gets a happy one, usually involving a mix of people from Smallville.

[glassesandcape-a-blog]

"You left a wash running so I took it outside and hung it up, sweetheart. Should be dry in time for you to swing by. Don't forget to tell Lois to e-mail me what she wants for Thanksgiving. Have to start figuring out my schedule. Alright, honey. I'll talk to you later."

Send me messages as one of my muse’s parents.

Clark ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry, I completely forgot to pick it up.” He smiled at her next remark, balancing the phone between his ear and shoulder as he ripped off a piece of paper towel – the closest paper he could find – and grabbed a pen, writing “Thanksgiving food preference?” and leaving it to remind Lois. “I’ll ask her – thanks, Ma. We can’t wait to see you. Bye. Love you.”

[glassesandcape-a-blog]

🎯

Send a 🎯 to hear what my muse would say at yours funeral | okay, I guess this one is only fair. but now I gotta live up to yours yikes

also. this got long. so I’m putting it under a cut.

Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. The windwhistled past a caped figure as he hovered high above Metropolis,obscured by the heavy cloud cover, as motionless as one would bestanding on the ground. Breathe in, breathe out. All around him was asea of heavy, undulating grey.

Clark Kent shut his eyes, but there was nothing to stop the imageof Lois from appearing behind it. Lois as she should have been –happy; stubborn; arguing with Perry or Lombard or her father;eyebrows furrowed as she typed away furiously, coffee stains on theirtable; smiling up at him and holding him close.

Lois as she was – still, broken, unbreathing. Eyes shut, facetoo smooth, in the unnatural stillness that comes with death.

Today was the day of the funeral. Breathe in, breathe out.

For the past two weeks, Clark Kent hadn’t spoken more than whatwas necessary, at least not in public. Perry’d tried to get him totake some time off – Perry, of all people – but though Clarkknew, in the back of his mind, that he should, he didn’t; instead hepounded out assignment after assignment, with a mechanicalpreciseness that kept his coworkers throwing sideways glances hisway, whispering worriedly.

(At home, their home, it was too quiet, and even with thesounds of Metropolis filling his ears, the silence was overwhelming.He’d talked to his mother. Not much. But she’d understood, at least.He knew that she’d been through this too.)

Below him, Clark could hear the clock on top of the Newstimebuilding chiming, one dull peal after another, and he forced himselfto open his eyes. There was a storm brewing, and he could feel theelectricity dancing on his skin and smell the rain. It would startto pour in a few hours, if he had to guess. In a twisted way, italmost made sense.

Clark came back to Earth and touched down just as the first fewdrops started to fall.

* * *

Breathe in, breathe out. The church her father had chosen wasdraped in black, and Clark sat in the first pew, next to Perry andone of Lois’ closest friends from college, across the aisle fromGeneral Lane and Lucy Lane.

He focused on the funeral director’s eulogy to keep himself fromfixating on the coffin behind the man, and yet that almost made itworse. It was too generic, too impersonal; there was nothing about itthat captured who Lois was, the force she had been. Clarkcould only think that this wasn’t supposed to happen; they weren’tsupposed to be sitting here in silence while Lois lay in repose in acoffin. She wasn’t supposed to die. He was supposed to keep it fromhappening.

Memories played behind his eyes, but it seemed that they wereselected at random – Lois wrinkled her nose at him after a recipehad gone wrong, but then she’d laughed and they’d ordered takeout.Lois burst out of a police car in front of his family home and ran upto him, breathless, with a plan. Lois stood down the member ofLexCorp’s board of directors until he finally gave in and admittedhis guilt. Lois downed one cup of coffee after another until Clarkreplaced her mug with a glass of water. Lois argued her case for astory to Perry and won. She laughed. She smiled. Lois took his hand,and, sitting there, alone, in the pew, Clark could almost feel thefamiliar pressure.

They’d had two years. He wished that he had known, somehow, thatthis was all they would get.

The funeral director concluded, then General Lane spoke. ThenLucy. Then it was his turn. Clark looked down at the piece of paperhe’d unfolded from his jacket pocket, the words almost alien.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

“Lois was a force of nature – always searching, alwaysdetermined to find the truth and answer the questions that came forthin life. She never gave up and never backed down from a challenge,even if she knew she was rushing headlong into danger. To her, it wasmore important that the truth be told, that justice be served to thepeople, than for her to be comfortable.

These qualities made her a great journalist. They also made herone of the best people I’ve ever known. Because Lois tempered all ofthis with kindness and empathy that made her shine in a world so fullof darkness. I don’t know where I would be without her guiding light,and the hope that she brought me every day of my life. Shereminded me that our cynical, dark world was still beautiful.”

Breathe in, breathe out.

“Lois will be missed by all who knew her, and by everyone whoselives were touched by her. It will be a hard task to find anyone whowill measure up to her legacy of truth, justice, and love.”

[glassesandcape-a-blog]

- AMORTENTIA -

Send “Amortentia” for what smells my character associates with yours.

Bruce @gothamblooded :

burnt tires and Riesling; natural gas; cologne; night air; blood both human and Kryptonian

[glassesandcape-a-blog]

@hiswcrld | con’t from x

“I’m trying to be as compact as possible,” he retorted, but the corner of his mouth was turned up in a smile, eyes sparkling cheekily. “And I know, but that’s not the point. Do you fight people in your sleep?”

[glassesandcape-a-blog]

you never have to ask

    I’m gonna love you

         ‘til you start looking back

@reportcrlady

[glassesandcape-a-blog]

🛏

My muse hasn’t slept for days. Send 🛏 for your muse to drag mine to bed

“Lois. I’m –” his sentence was interupted by a yawn, though he tried to stifle it. “I’m fine. We have to be at work.” Dammit, he was yawning again. Even if he didn’t need quite as much sleep as a normal person, he could still get run down. Especially after not sleeping for a few days.